


This, Every Night

by OTPshipper98



Series: Harry Potter in English [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cuddles, Fluff, Insecure Draco Malfoy, M/M, Pining Idiots, Quidditch, sleepy drarry, there's a bit of crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 10:27:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16345034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OTPshipper98/pseuds/OTPshipper98
Summary: Harry is too sleepy to go home, or so he says. Draco certainly believes him; after all, there can't be any other reason why Harry would want to sleep with him, right?





	This, Every Night

**Author's Note:**

> Magickfluffy asked for "Some way too tired Harry and Draco", and well... Harry is the only "way too tired" one in the drabble, but close enough XD
> 
> Thanks to keyflight790 for betaing!!

“Come on, Potter. I know being in my presence can be addictive, but you have to go home now.”

Harry’s grip on Draco’s shoulders only tightened, and Draco felt the tingle of Harry’s wet hair against his neck as the idiot pressed his cheek to Draco’s shoulder blades.

“Don’t wanna,” Harry muttered. “Too tired to move.”

“Well I’m going to my bedroom. You can sleep in the parlour for all I care.”

He tried to rid himself of Harry’s hands, but they clung to his chest.

“Carry me home?”

Draco snorted. “You’re delusional.”

“Nu-uh… just tired. And you owe me. We would have found the _snitch_ hours ago if you hadn’t missed it for the fifth time, and now I wouldn’t be so exhausted.” Harry reluctantly let go of Draco’s shoulders. His fingers brushed the sensitive skin of Draco’s neck, which had him shivering with want and expectation. They’d never touched inside the Mansion before, and the idea scared him in all the right ways.

“Potter, I am _not_ Apparating you to your flat. Either you do so yourself, or–” Draco’s threat was interrupted by a long yawn coming from his back, where Harry was still resting his weight against him. Draco couldn’t help it–he yawned too, losing track of what he was saying.

“Take me to your bedroom, then.”

Heat soared through Draco’s body even as he filled his lungs with air. Fuck, that was a really bad idea, and Draco should have laughed it off and sent Harry home. But the question had sounded like a challenge, albeit a very sleepy one, and Draco heard himself reply before he could think things through. “Let’s go, then, if that’s what you want.”

***

Looking back, Draco should have known. Harry was bloody gorgeous, even in his muggle trousers and hoodies, so it was just logical that he would look like–like _that_ on Draco’s fluffiest green pajamas, sporting a sleepy grin and _without his glasses on._

Merlin. Draco was totally, utterly fucked.

“You look cute when you blush,” Harry said as he crawled into bed with him.

“Sod off!”

The lights went off automatically so that just the moonlight illuminated Draco’s bedroom. With a pleased hum, Harry invaded Draco’s side of the bed, clinging to him without warning.

“Potter, what the hell?” Draco spluttered, trying desperately to force his heart to slow down.

“I’ve always wanted to know what cuddling felt like.” Harry brushed his cheek against Draco’s collarbone, while an arm and a leg trapped him against his own bed. “S’nice. Smells like you, too.”

A whine escaped Draco’s throat. “You’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you? Damn Gryffindor!”

Harry raised his head, and Draco got a glimpse of an innocent smile painted on his lips. “Doing what?”

Draco groaned. Was he going to have to say it out loud? “Being so unnecessarily adorable in such a distracting manner?” Harry’s nose nuzzled his neck, and he felt wet lips against his throat. “And–” Draco gasped. “And touching my neck when you know–”

“Know what?”

The git was smirking; Draco just _knew._

“You know what, you idiot!” _You know how much it turns me on. You know how much I love it._

“Maybe so.”

Draco breathed in, then out. He was overreacting. So what if they were cuddling in his bed? That meant nothing. They’d… they’d done other stuff before, after all. They’d kissed in the gardens of the Malfoy Estate the third time Harry had come to play Quidditch with him. They’d _fucked_ in the shed where they stored the brooms, too–Draco blamed Harry’s Quidditch uniform for that.

Cuddling was nothing compared to fucking. And it certainly didn’t mean Harry felt something for him. He was just tired. Too tired to go home. Yeah, that was it.

Harry’s body seemed to relax gradually on top of his, and Draco had to fight the urge to bring his hand to Harry’s hair. The annoying ache in his chest wasn’t precisely helping.

“You know what would be nice?”

Harry’s words were barely a slurred murmur, yet they had Draco shivering with anticipation.

“What?”

“This... every night.”

Draco had to force his eyes closed. _He doesn’t mean it like that. He’s just half-asleep. He’ll take it back in the morning._

It would have been easier to believe if Draco didn't desperately wish it were true.

“Go to sleep, Potter. You’re talking nonsense.”

“Am not. _You_ go to sleep. And stop overth…” Harry drifted off for a second. “Overthinking. We feel… I feel the same as you do, Dray.”

 _Fuck._ Draco didn’t want to believe him, _couldn’t_ believe him. If he did, there would be no turning back. And yet here he was, hope soaring through his chest, tears welling up in his eyes. “Okay,” he murmured as the first tear slid down the side of his face.

“That’s my Draco.”


End file.
